Page 84 of Bullseye
My mother used to have an expression she spouted often; “The devil that you know is better than the devil that you don’t know.” I think that was her reasoning for staying with my father for all those years, but I don’t agree with her. I remember in one of my world religion classes, I learned that in medieval times, some thought devils were matched to different sins—like Mammon for extreme greed. If that’s the case, then, “Sloth” could be waiting on the other side of this door.
And I’d sure as shit rather fight Sloth than those three armed mountains standing outside the main entrance. Especially since I’ve already maimed one of them, and there’s no doubt he’s looking for revenge.
I need to get to Ironclad.
Damn, what I wouldn’t give for my bag right now that’s holding my piece—but I know if I had brought it here, they never would have let me keep it. They’d never give me access to my gun. I was smart to keep it locked in that motel’s safe, even though my new burner phone is buried in the back of my jeans. I’m surprised they’ve let me keep that. But truthfully, except that one time at the door, they haven’t patted me down. It was easy to get past that guard. All I had to tell him was that I was a WAG of one of the guys in Lucifer’s Riders, and he let me in.
Ihatedhaving to say that. I am no one’s old lady. Taking a deep breath and pushing aside my annoyance, I gather my courage and pound on the back door of Ironclad’s office. Nothing.
“Ironclad,” I yell through the door, pounding again, but still there’s no response.
I’m not surprised. I don’t know why I thought he’d be waiting for me to call for him. Shit. So I’m stuck in here. Damn it.
“Ironclad!” I try again, pounding louder, but still nothing. If I had my piece, then I could shoot at the lock—
Wait. Reaching out for the door handle, I press down on the lever and… it opens…
Makes sense. Ironclad would never create an office where he could be trapped. Taking another deep breath, I push the door wider and step all the way through. The door clicks shut behind me. Crap. Ahead is only a long, dimly lit hallway…
I really hope I’m not locked in here and left to die.
There’s a single lightbulb overhead, and moving quickly, I hug the wall, hoping I get… somewhere. As I move, I’m certain the heavy bass—the heartbeat of Mammon—grows louder.
“I’m moving toward the club,” I mumble.
Knowing that I can get into Mammon, some of the billion pounds of stress I’m feeling falls away. In the club itself, I’ll at least get a chance to find Ironclad. If he’s still here. If not… I’ll have to move on to drastic measures.
And damn, I really don’t want to have to do that.
Finding another door, I squat down low and ease the door open slowly. This is freaking Mammon. For all I know, this door could open into an arena with gladiators and tigers. Peeking through the door that’s only open a crack, I see that I’m behind one of the large bars on the main floor of Mammon. Okay. I can work with this.
Closing the door again, I stay crouched low in the hallway and text Harry. Thankfully, I remember his number, and I’m even more thankful that I created that social account from this burner… in case I ever needed it. Exhaling deeply, I type.
“Avery and I in a shitload of trouble. Can’t explain. Get Seth. Contact NYPD to watch livestream from my social media.” Send.
Please, God, I know Harry’s pissed, but please let him help.
The phone vibrates in my hand.
“Ok.”
That’s succinct. Well, what did I expect?
Pushing the door all the way open, I slide through and eyeing the underbar passage, I squat-walk my way toward it. Ducking lower, I slide under—
“Hey!” A bartender grabs the hood of my—or Avery’s—sweatshirt. “Who the hell are you and what did you steal?”
Standing to my full height, I spin around and glare at him.
Letting go, he backs off.
“I’m Seneca Villetrio. I’m here to pledge for Lucifer’s Riders.”
Grinning, he flashes a gold tooth as he looks me up and down. He lifts his hand and runs it through his long, filthy black hair and settles his gaze on me. His beady little eyes flicker. Fuck, no.
“You have no fucking clue who you’re up against,” I snarl, stepping deeper into the shadows and closer to the wall in case I need to use it.
He follows me. Stupid, stupid man.
